Memories
by CamiBelle
Summary: After an incident with a Druid gone wrong, Stiles is trapped inside his own mind, forced to relive his worst memories. Will the pack be able to find him in time? What has Stiles been hiding from them? Takes place after season 4.
1. Chapter 1

The first few weeks after the Dead Pool was shut down and the Benefactor handled, there was a small era of peace. The pack finished their junior (and freshman, in Liam's case) year of high school, and summer was just around the corner. All in all, everything was relatively normal in Beacon Hills.

Of course, normal doesn't last for very long.

"So we're fighting a what?" Stiles asked, pacing around Derek's loft anxiously.

"A druid," Scott replied.

"As in Jennifer level druid, or something we can actually handle?"

Lydia sighed. "Jennifer was a Darach. Not a druid," Pulling out a folder, she pointed to a picture. "His name's Jasper. Apparently he was asked to be an emissary for a werewolf pack, but chose to take a more violent path instead."

"What do you mean by violent?" Liam asked.

"It says here that he believed it was his task to wipe out all werewolf packs. That doesn't sound very good."

Scott stood up. "Well, we obviously need to stop him before he stops us."

"And how are we supposed to do that?" Kira asked.

"I think I might have an idea," Scott replied.

* * *

"This is not a very good idea!" Stiles yelled as he dodged a bolt of . . . whatever it was the druid was shooting at them.

"I mean, none of us expected him to be able to shoot spells at us!" Malia yelled, jumping to attack the druid before he threw her to the side.

The fight went on for quite a while. The supernatural beings of the pack were growing tired from the multiple attacks that were thrown at them. Stiles and Lydia, both staying closer to the sidelines, were trying to think of a way to gain the upper hand.

"Wait," Stiles muttered, looking around the abandoned factory. "I think I got something."

"What?" Lydia asked as he stood up and ran toward the fight. "Or just ignore me. That works too."

Running up to his alpha, Stiles said, "Scott, keep him distracted."

Before Scott could turn and ask why, Stiles had rand in the opposite direction.

"Please tell me that I still have it." Stiles fumbled through his pockets until he pulled out a small pouch. "Yes!"

Emptying a pile of mountain ash on his hand, he cautiously approached the distracted druid.

Looking at how his pack was faring, Scott felt a sense of dread. Malia, collapsed on the floor and clutching her side, was panting from exertion. Liam wasn't faring much better – his obvious head wound showed signs of concussion. Kira was still standing, thankfully, but not for much longer. And Lydia, who had thankfully stayed to the side with a first aid kit on hand, was debating whether or not she should help them.

That just left Stiles, who, by some miraculous reason, had almost completely surrounded the druid with mountain ash.

"Hey!" Scott yelled, gaining Jasper's attention. "Is that all you got?"

Turning in exasperation, the druid fired a large bolt of energy at the alpha, sending him slamming into the ground.

"I must admit: you all are one of the most entertaining packs I've fought with. But, all good things must come to an end." He started walking forward, only to come into contact with an invisible barrier. Confused and angry, he banged his hands against the wall.

"Not so smart now, are you?" Stiles said, approaching from behind with a smirk.

"Ah, the human of the pack. I have to admit, I did not see this coming."

Stiles sighed and said, "Alright, now the real question is: what are we gonna do with you?"

The druid laughed and replied, "You seem to be under the impression that I'm going to go with you willingly. Need I remind you – you don't know the first thing about what I'm capable of."

Stiles narrowed his eyes in confusion.

Jasper muttered something under his breath and his eyes began to glow a greenish blue. Taking in a sharp breath, Stiles barely had enough time to back up a few inches before he was thrown across the room with a blast of energy.

Seeing the human land on the floor in a heap, Scott and Lydia both screamed, "Stiles!"

Distracted by the sudden attack, no one noticed the druid casting another spell until he was gone in a poof of smoke.

Scott, too preoccupied to give much thought to the sudden disappearance, felt a sudden surge of adrenaline as he ran to his best friend's side. Cautiously turning the boy over, he noticed a small gash on Stiles' forehead. He let out a breath of relief. Aside from a few bruises and a killer headache, Stiles should be just fine.

* * *

Absentmindedly carding her fingers through Stiles' hair, Lydia looked out of the car window in disdain. Something was _wrong._ It was one of those feelings that was absolutely unexplainable, yet completely, irrevocably overwhelming.

Taking in a tense breath, she looked back at the unconscious boy. His hand held loosely by Malia's, he looked fairly peaceful. He should be waking up soon.

Whatever feeling of unease Lydia had, she knew she would feel better once Stiles woke up.

* * *

"This doesn't make any sense," Scott said, pacing around the animal clinic. "He should have woken up by now."

"He _should_ have woken up hours ago," Lydia said tersely, staring at the pale boy with worry.

"You said that a druid cast the spell, am I correct?" Deaton asked, looking through his bookshelf for something.

"Yeah," Liam answered. "He said some sort of spell and then his eyes started glowing. But not like, werewolf glowing. They were green."

"Do you know what's wrong with him?" Malia asked.

"I might have an idea," Deaton mumbled, still looking through his bookcase. "Ah, here it is."

Putting an old, beat up book on the counter, the pack crowded around him as Deaton read aloud, " 'Common druid spells.' Let me see . . . 'Living Death,' 'Physical Mutation,' ah. Here it is." Deaton pointed to a spell in the middle of the book.

"Ciall Dichealtair," Lydia read slowly. "That translates to magical distortion of sanity. What does that mean?"

"It means that your druid has trapped Stiles inside his own mind. By sending a large wave of magical energy at him, the druid essentially cursed Stiles to 'relive his worst memories' " Deaton explained, reading the last part aloud from the old book. "If the victim is not waken from the curse, his or her brain will eventually shut down from sensory overload and trauma."

The pack looked at each other nervously.

"So how do we wake him up?" Kira asked, confused.

Deaton thought for a moment and said, "Scott, do you remember when you and Lydia retrieved Stiles from his mind?"

"You mean when the Nogitsune trapped him? Yeah," Scott replied, cringing at the memory.

"I believe that by doing the same thing today, you'll be able to wake him up."

Scott exhaled a tense breath and said, "Alright. So who should go?"

"Well, if this book is correct, I should have a way to send all of you to retrieve him. Persuasion works better in numbers."

A few minutes later, Malia, Liam, Kira, Scott, and Lydia were all standing in a circle around the unconscious Stiles. Scott stood behind Stiles' head, his hands on both of his shoulders, and looked at Deaton.

"Alright, according to this book, you all need to navigate your way through Stiles' dreamscape and find present day Stiles. Once you find him, you need to convince him to come back to Beacon Hills, and hopefully, you will all wake up within an hour or so."

"What do you mean hopefully?" Malia asked.

"I will admit, there are a few risks in doing this."

"But this is Stiles," Scott said. "I'm willing to take the risk." Lydia took a step next to him in silent agreement, and slowly the rest of the pack looked willingly toward the emissary.

"All you need to do is focus on Stiles. The spell should do the rest." Silently, everyone looked at the pale boy, Deaton's quiet muttering slowly fading away into darkness.


	2. Chapter 2

Kira groaned and rubbed her eyes as she adjusted to the new environment. The cold, cement walls around her gave a familiar sense of foreboding, and the faint echoes of screaming put her on edge.

"Is everyone okay?" Scott asked, looking around at his pack.

"Yeah, I think so," Liam responded. "Where are we?"

A sudden scream startled the teenagers, and they jumped in surprise.

"Wait a minute," Lydia said. "I know that voice." She closed her eyes in concentration and waited until another scream was heard. Opening her eyes in realization, she uttered, "It's me."

"What do you mean?" Kira asked, confused.

"That was _me_ screaming. I know where we are. We're in Eichen House." Scott clenched his jaw as he remembered the time Stiles spent here, and Malia growled softly at the name.

"I think it was this way," Lydia said, walking stoically down the hallway until she reached a door. Pushing it slightly, the door creaked open. The pack walked inside and found themselves in a file room in the basement.

"Okay, this is really creepy," she said, looking at the scene in front of them. Lydia and Stiles were both restrained against a pole, and a mental worker named Brunski was hovering over them. Walking closer, they began to listen to the conversation.

"I helped her. And now you can help me. Because there is something that has always bothered me." Brunski put a tape in an old player and pressed the play button.

A faint crackling could be heard as the tape began to play. The heavy sound of doors banging filled the room, soon to be replaced by a voice. "What are you—Brunski what are you doing?"

"Don't worry, Lorraine," Brunski's voice sounded from the tape player. "It's going to be alright. You're just gonna have a little trouble breathing."

Past Stiles struggled against his restraints and looked behind him. "Lydia, look at me."

Trying to ignore the tape player, past Lydia turned to him. "Don't listen. Okay? Don't listen to it." Stiles started to breathe more heavily as he attempted to calm the strawberry blonde. "Just focus on my voice. Alright?" Stiles' voice cracked as he spoke louder. "Don't listen to it. Block it out. Okay?" Noticing that he wasn't getting through to her, he jerked against his restraints. "Lydia?"

Trying a new tactic, Stiles turned to Brunski and yelled, "Hey, turn it off!"

Brunski reacted with a spurt of anger and punched Stiles violently, causing him to fall to the ground.

"Stiles!" Past Lydia yelled in horror. Looking to Scott, present Lydia saw him start to rush forward, and she pulled him back.

"Scott! This is just a memory. We won't be able to help him."

Taking a few deep breaths, Scott relaxed. The faint groans of Stiles motivated him to move faster, and he said, "Come on, we need to find him before it's too late."

Looking behind her, Malia cocked her head as she noticed a door. "Hey, I think it's through there."

"Why do you think that?" Kira asked curiously.

"I don't know. Just a feeling." Tentatively walking toward the door, the were-coyote turned the handle. The pack briskly walked inside, and soon they were surrounded by darkness.

* * *

"We're at school?" Liam said as his eyes adjusted. "Well that's disappointing."

Scott suppressed a laugh and continued to walk down the familiar hallways.

Lydia, seeing that the hallway was empty, squinted her eyes in concentration. "Where is everyone?"

A sudden movement from down the hall caught their attention. Seeing a man in a yellow HAZMAT suit, the teenagers put two and two together. "This is the day that the CDC came in," Scott stated, suddenly noticing the sickly aroma that filled the air.

"Oh yeah, that happened on the day you were supposed to take the SAT," Liam concluded, obviously having been home that day rather than at school.

Scott nodded an affirmation, and the pack walked down the hall in order to find Stiles.

Approaching the door to the locker room, the alpha pushed it open and they cautiously sauntered inside.

"I was wondering how that idiot got sick," an unfamiliar voice said. Scott tentatively approached the open door to coach's office, and saw the back of someone's head. "I'm also wondering where your friends are. Since, in order to get paid by the Benefactor, I need to have proof they're dead."

"Visual confirmation," Stiles' panicked voice quietly reasoned.

The man nodded and replied, "Exactly." The man, whom Scott realized is called the Chemist by the police department, roughly grabbed Stiles' shoulder and pushed him into the locker room. Scott briskly walked backward to avoid being run into.

Stiles slowly walked forward, very aware of the gun aimed at his back.

"You still look feverish, Mr. Stilinski. But you should know something: the virus doesn't kill humans. You'll get better. So don't you think you should tell me where they are? Shouldn't one of you get to live?"

Scott clenched his fists in anger and muttered, "He didn't tell me this happened."

"He didn't tell any of us," Lydia replied, worried about her friend and why he kept something like this from them.

"I think I saw them in the library," past Stiles replied. "It might've been the cafeteria. It was definitely one of those two, though."

Clearly not satisfied with his answer, the Chemist tersely said, "I'm going to count to three, and then I'm going to kill you."

Stiles turned around and took a step closer. "You think you can scare me?"

The man replied, "No, I think I can kill you. I just thought the countdown would make it more exciting. So," he said, bringing the gun to rest against Stiles' forehead. The boy didn't even flinch. "One."

Stiles took in a sharp intake of breath.

"Two."

He closed his eyes tightly and tried to slow down his breathing.

The deafening sound of a gunshot resonated throughout the locker room. The pack, who hadn't moved an inch, suddenly looked around for the source of the shot.

Coming from the coach's office, a man in a HAZMAT suit cautiously walked in. Slowly removing the face mask, Raphael McCall looked at Stiles and assessed him for any injury.

"Dad?" Scott said in confusion.

As Stiles spit out some of the splattered blood from his mouth, he said, "Where the hell did you come from?"

Scott closed his eyes, making a mental note to ask both Stiles and his dad about this later. Taking in a deep breath, he opened his eyes and looked at the pack.

"Come on," Malia said. "We should go."

Tensely walking past Stiles and Mr. McCall, the group walked through the door to coach's office and braced themselves for what was to come.


	3. Chapter 3

Walking through the front door of the McCall residence, the pack breathed a sigh of relief at its calming security.

"Mom?" Scott called out as a habit. Suddenly remembering that this was all just a memory, he shook his head to clear his thoughts and walked into the living room.

"Stiles?" Lydia looks toward the couch and sees the missing pack member sleeping soundly. Hoping that they found the present day Stiles, she approaches him hesitantly.

Suddenly, the sleeping boy jolted awake with a gasp and stood up, causing Lydia to back away in surprise.

Past Scott ran into the room and caught Stiles before he falls over. "Hey, you okay?"

"You were right, Lydia," Scott said. "This is really creepy."

"What happened, how long was I out?" Stiles panicked.

"Just a couple hours," past Scott replied. Looking hesitantly at his friend, he said, "You should sit down."

Ignoring the alpha's advice, Stiles continued, "Where's my dad?"

"He's at Eichen House, looking for Meredith. I promised I wouldn't let you out of my sight."

"When is this?" Liam suddenly asked, turning everyone's attention away from the scene in front of them.

Realizing that the young teenager didn't know them at this time, Kira replied, "This was when Stiles was possessed by the Nogitsune. Or after they split bodies, I guess."

"I'm sorry, what?" Liam asked, thoroughly confused.

"We'll explain later," Lydia replied, looking back at Stiles.

"I just sort of feel like we're waiting for a ransom call," the pale boy said.

"We'll find her," past Scott reassured.

Stiles, seemingly not that reassured by Scott's words, anxiously scratched his arm and then reached for his jacket. Shakily, he struggled to put his arms through the sleeves. Once the jacket was finally on, he pulled it around himself in a futile attempt to get warm.

"You alright?" Scott asked with concern.

"Yeah," Stiles replied, his voice somewhat unsteady due to his shivering. "I don't know why, I just can't seem to get warm."

"Maybe you should sit down; take it easy." Scott gestured to the couch behind them. He put his hand over Stiles', hoping convince him to relax, and pulled back in surprise. "You're in pain."

"It's not that bad," Stiles attempted to ease his friends worry. "It's just like a dull ache."

"Where?" Scott asked.

"Sort of everywhere," Stiles replied, his voice cracking.

Hesitantly, Scott put his hand over Stiles' again. Pulling away, Stiles sat down on the couch.

"Dude, you're freezing," Scott said, his voice laced with concern.

Rubbing his hands over his mouth, Stiles looked down tensely. Scott sat down on the coffee table and looked intensely at Stiles.

"Tell me the truth. How much does it really hurt?"

Stiles rested his chin atop his clasped hands, and looked back and forth between Scott and the floor. Trying several times to say something, he was cut off by the phone ringing.

"I think that's our cue to leave," Kira said, gesturing toward the kitchen. The rest of the pack soon followed, and the doorway led them to another memory.

* * *

Walking into a sterile looking hallway, Malia softly growled, "Not this place again."

"What's this place?" Liam asked.

"Eichen House."

A sudden tense feeling in the air, Lydia broke the silence by saying, "Is that Brunski?"

Looking down the hall, the pack saw the familiar orderly.

"Oh no," Malia said, starting to walk toward the man.

"What?" Scott asked, following Malia's stride.

"This is the night Stiles tried to break into the basement."  
"Why would Stiles want to break into a basement?" Kira asked, struggling to keep up with the were-coyote's fast pace.

"I don't remember. Something about a dream he had? I didn't really ask. Anyway, I just remember he was very unsuccessful."

"What do you mean, 'unsuccessful'?" Lydia asked.

Ignoring the banshee's question, Malia paused as the pack almost ran into Brunski and a few other orderlies.

"Into the quiet room, little man," Brunski said, moving to the side to reveal a disgruntled Stiles. Gesturing to a bottle of pills, the man asked, "Wanna tell us where you got these?"

"Vending machine," Stiles said dismissively.

With a smirk, Brunski retorted, "I always loved the sarcastic ones.

Stiles' face fell in realization as he noticed a syringe in the orderly's hand. "Give him 5 of Haldol."

"What is that? What is – wait, what is that? Is that a sedative?" Stiles said anxiously, struggling to break free of the mental workers' grip. "Okay, hang on. Hang on, I can't go to sleep. Okay? I'm sorry, I'm sorry."

As the orderlies attempted to inject the human, Stiles' attempts grew more desperate. "Get off, get off of me!" He struggled fervently against their grips, and jerked away as the syringe was plunged into his arm. He screamed in hopelessness and frustration,

"No, I can't—I can't go to sleep." Stiles fell to the floor as his limbs began to falter. "You don't understand. You don't—I got . . . you don't get it." Stiles slowly collapsed onto the floor, his words becoming jumbled in his stupor. "I gotta stay awake. I gotta stay . . ."

Clenching his jaw, Scott said, "Let's go." Wordlessly, the pack walked out of the padded room and into darkness.


	4. Chapter 4

"Where are we now?" Kira asked, trying to adjust her eyes to the pitch black lighting.

"Hang on, this smells familiar." Malia took a cautious step forward, focusing on her senses as she began to recognize the aroma. Gasping in realization, she said, "We're in—"

Her statement was cut off as she cascaded down the steps in front of her. Thankfully catching herself before she fell down the entire flight of stairs, she shook her head to steady herself and continued to walk forward. The rest of the pack, now noticing that they were in fact standing on a staircase, followed suit.

"Malia, where are we?" Scott asked.

Before Malia could answer, a terrified yet clear whisper echoed throughout the room, "Scott?"

"Stiles?" Scott said, looking around for the source of the voice. "Is that you?"

"Scott, I don't know where I am. I don't know how I got here," Stiles shakily responded, the shivering in his voice evident.

"Stiles, you were attacked, remember? The druid hit you with a spell," Scott said, still trying to locate his friend.

"No, I don't know. It's dark, it's hard to see," the teen said breathlessly.

"Scott," Lydia said, grabbing onto his arm in order to find him. "I don't think that's our Stiles."

"What do you mean?" Scott asked, his eyes finally beginning to adjust to the darkness.

"Scott? I don't think I can get out of here, I can't move," Stiles said, an edge of panic to his voice.

"Wait, wait, wait. Stiles said this to me before." Bringing his hands to the side of his face, Scott tried to remember the conversation. "This was the night Stiles was sleepwalking."

"But that doesn't make any sense," Kira interjected. "Didn't you say Stiles was found in the coyote den?"

"He was," Scott answered, confused.

"Well then, why are we in the basement of Eichen House?" Malia asked.

"Wait, did you say were at Eichen House? In the basement?" Lydia asked. When she received a nod from Malia, she continued, "I could have sworn that Stiles was here that night. Remember?"

Kira gasped in understanding and said, "That makes sense. We aren't in the coyote den because Stiles didn't know he was there. Right now, we're where Stiles _thought_ he was."

"We're in his dream," Malia concluded.

After a few moments of tense silence, past Stiles said, "Because I think there's someone in here with me."

Looking down, as their eyes had finally adjusted to the light, they saw Stiles lying haphazardly on the cement floor. As he turned on the flashlight in his phone, he shone it toward his leg.  
The gruesome image of flesh and blood marred by a bear trap was permanently seared into Scott's mind. Fighting the urge to break apart the steel trap, because he knew he wouldn't have made any difference, the alpha grabbed Lydia's arm for reassurance.

Stiles' heartwrenching scream of pure agony and terror was also engraved in Scott's memory that night.

As Stiles collapsed on his side in despair, he attempted to calm his breathing. A sudden noise behind the furnace caught the boys attention, and the light from his flashlight whipped toward the source.

"Who's there?" he asked shakily. "I know you're there – I can hear you."

Barely noticing the single tear that dripped down his cheek, Stiles continued to maneuver his flashlight in order to find the unwelcomed guest.

Finally, his flashlight settled on the opposite side of the wall. Drawing the attention of the entire pack, they turned and saw a gruesome figure crouched near the wall.

"What the hell is that?" Liam asked, subconsciously moving closer to the alpha.

"A Nogitsune," Kira whispered.

"Who are you?" Stiles said to the spirit. The faint sound of chalk scratching on a wall was his only response. As a mummified hand slowly dropped the piece of chalk onto the ground, Stiles breathed deeply in trepidation. Pointing the flashlight back toward the wall, a reverse image of the number 5 was crudely drawn.

"Self," Stiles narrated.

Then, as if from the utterance of the word alone, the chalk melted away in a stream of smoke.

"That's not natural," Malia stated.

Angrily throwing his phone to the floor, as it seemed to have lost battery, Stiles futilely attempted to free his foot from the steel trap. A scream of pain and frustration tore from him, and Lydia put a hand to her mouth as she gasped in horror.

The sound of footsteps drew Stiles away from his task, and he backed toward the wall in alarm.

"Who's there?" he asked, feigning defiance. "Who are you?!"

Responding in Japanese, the creature slowly sauntered closer to the defenseless boy.

"What?" Stiles asked.

As the creature continued to respond in the foreign language, Stiles fell onto his elbows and pulled his hands to his face.

"I don't – I don't understand."

"Not 'who are you,' Stiles. Who are we?" Looking up, Stiles squinted his eyes in confusion. "It's getting colder, Stiles. Did you notice that we stopped shivering? You know why that's a bad sign."

"It's the body trying to conserve energy. It was my fifth grade science report. Hypothermia."

"Our feet are starting to thicken. Then comes fatigue, confusion. We're going to die if we don't get out of here."

Stiles looked to the creature with disgust. "Stop saying that. Stop saying 'we'."

"We're trying to keep you from freezing to death. You better get out, Stiles."  
"How?" Stiles asked gesturing to his bloody leg. "There's a freaking steel jaw trap on my leg!"

"Is there?" the Nogitsune asked. Stiles hung his head in desperation and looked toward his leg, suddenly realizing the difference. "Notice something different? It was on your right leg before, wasn't it?"

"No, no," Stiles muttered, trying to make some sense out of the situation.

"Are you sure?"

"What the hell is this? What are you doing?" Stiles asked desperately, his voice cracking from the cold and frustration.

"We're trying to save you, Stiles. We're trying to save your life. You don't understand, do you? It's a riddle. Do you know any riddles, Stiles?"

Stiles replied, "A few."  
"What gets bigger, the more you take away?"

"A hole."

"What gets wetter, the more it dries?"

"A towel."

"When is a door not a door?"

Scott and Lydia perked up at this question. Stiles paused a moment before answering, "When it's ajar."

"Everyone has it, but no one can lose it. What is it?"

"I don't . . ."

Letting out a sigh, the Nogitsune repeats, "Everyone has it, but no one can lose it. What is it, Stiles?"

"I don't—I don't know." Stiles squinted his eyes in frustration and fear.

"Everyone has it, but no one can lose it."

Shaking, Stiles put his hands up to his temples. "I don't know."

Suddenly, the Nogitsune stood right in front of Stiles' face, and repeated the question loudly in Japanese. Stiles flinched and attempted to back away.

Unsatisfied with the response, the creature grabbed the chain attached to the steel trap and began to pull, dragging a pained and terrified Stiles along the floor.

"Oh my god," Lydia said, running forward and trying to stop the Nogitsune from harming her friend.

"No, no, no!" The terrified screams of Stiles filled the room, and suddenly everyone was plunged into darkness.

* * *

Adjusting their eyes to the dim light surrounding them, the pack looked around the new setting. Only the sound of hesitant breaths and strained gulps filled Stiles' bedroom.

"That was . . ." Liam started, not knowing how to comment on what he just witnessed.

"Terrifying?" Lydia supplied.

"Yeah," Liam answered.

Looking around their surroundings, the pack noticed Stiles shooting up from his bed, gasping for breath.

"You okay?" past Lydia asked. "Stiles?"

"Lydia, when were you in Stiles' bed?" Scott asked, a slight smirk on his face.

"I wasn't," Lydia said faintly. "I don't remember this."

"Yeah, I was just dreaming," Stiles responded, aware of Lydia's hand on his arm. "It was weird; it was like a dream within a dream."

"A nightmare?" past Lydia supplied.

Present Lydia squinted her eyes and said, "My god, is that really what my hair looked like?"

"Yeah," Stiles replied. Looking down at Lydia's hand, which was now enclosed with his own, Stiles faltered for a moment. Hesitantly looking at the red head, Stiles said, "Wait a sec. Lydia, what are you doing here?"

The creaking doorway prevented Lydia from answering. All eyes were suddenly trained on the open door, an eerie darkness emanating from the adjacent room.

Stiles began to move from his position on the bed. However, Lydia grabbed his arm and said, "Stiles, where are you going?"

"I just need to close the door."

"Just go back to sleep."

"No, no, no," Stiles said, rising from the bed. "I should close it."

"Don't worry about it," Lydia placated, hoping to convince him to lie down.

"What if someone comes in?" Stiles whispered.

"Like who?" Lydia realistically asked. "Just go back to sleep, Stiles."

"No, but what if they get in?" Stiles asked, distress and panic in his voice.

"What if who gets in?" Lydia asked, confused. "Stiles? Just leave it, please. Stiles? Stiles, come back to bed." The redhead's voice started to become panicked. "Stiles, please? Don't, Stiles. Don't!"

Ignoring the girl's advice, Stiles slowly began opening the door, and he moved closer toward the darkness.

"Don't go in there. Please, don't. Please, Stiles, don't!"

Hurriedly following the boy, the pack found themselves in a dark and dimly lit forest.

Suddenly, bright lights illuminated the scene. Surrounding the group in a circle, with the infamous Nematon at its center.

"Okay, this is just a dream," Stiles said to himself, his breathing becoming heavy with anxiety. "This is just a dream, get it out of your head Stiles. You're dreaming. Alright? So wake up, Stiles." The boy aggressively hit his head with his hands, hoping to jar himself awake. "Wake up, Stiles." Clenching his hands around his head, Stiles squinted his eyes in frustration. "Wake up!"


	5. Chapter 5

**Thanks to YMCMBYoungin13 suggestion, I decided to include a scene from 3x11.**

"God, I'm never gonna get used to that," Liam said as he looked around their new surroundings. The overcrowded hallway of BHHS greeted them, and Scott listened among the students' voices for his friends.

"He's over there," Scott said, headed in the direction of Coach's office.

"Okay, well maybe we could just—we could go over there and . . ." past Lydia was interrupted by Stiles' phone beeping. "Oh god. What is it now?"

"It's from Isaac," Stiles said shakily after a moment. "Jennifer, she took—she has Allison's father. She took him. She's got all three now."

Lydia's face clouded with worry, she said, "There's still time. We still have time, right?" Noticing Stiles anxious distress, she prompted. "Stiles? You okay?"

Stiles turned around himself, showing obvious signs of detachment and anxiety. "What is it?" Lydia asked again, concern evident in her voice. "What's wrong? Stiles?"

As Stiles began to breathe heavily, he responded. "I think I'm having a panic attack."

Springing into action, Lydia carefully maneuvered him out of the crowded hallway and into the locker room.

"Oh no," present Lydia said, hastily following after the two.

"What does 'oh no' mean?" Malia asked.

Opening her mouth to respond, Lydia sighed and said, "You'll see."

"Just try and think about something else. Anything else," past Lydia said, kneeling on the floor of the locker room.

"Like what?" Stiles asked quietly, his breathing becoming faster.

"Happy things. Good things. Uh, friends, family." Noticing Stiles' incredulous look, she corrected, "Ugh, I mean not family. Oh god. Okay, just try and slow your breathing."

"I can't, I can't." Stiles brought a hand to his chest, gripping against the fabric of his shirt in an effort to calm down.

Lydia shushed him and gently put her hands on the sides of his face. "Stiles, look at me. Shh, look at me. Stiles." Seeing that his breathing wasn't calming down, Lydia impulsively leaned forward and kissed him.

"Stiles _definitely_ didn't tell me about this," Scott said, his eyebrows raised as he looked at Lydia with a smirk.

"No, he didn't," Malia said sourly.

"How—how'd you do that?" Stiles asked, his breathing finally slowing down.

"I, uh, I read once that holding your breath could stop a panic attack. So, when I kissed you, uh. You held your breath."

"I did?" Stiles asked, still shocked over the situation.

"Yeah, you did."

"Thanks, that was really smart."

Malia turned to leave, and Lydia caught on her arm. "Malia, I was honestly just trying to calm him down. No underlying intentions whatsoever."

"It's cute that you still think that," Malia said wistfully. "Well, no use staying here all day. We should move on."

Silently, the pack walked out of the locker room and into new surroundings.

* * *

"Oh no," Scott muttered, noticing where they were. A bright, vibrant sign reading 'Motel Glen Capri' lit the dark night.

"There's no hope," a past version of Scott said, drawing the pack's attention toward the traumatizing scene. Seeing the alpha covered in gasoline and holding a flare caused Malia, Kira, and Liam to look toward Scott in alarm.

"What do you mean, Scott?" Alison asked. "There's always hope."

"Alison," present Scott muttered, his eyes glazing over in longing and sadness.

"Not for me. Not for Derek," Scott replied.

"Derek wasn't your fault. You know Derek wasn't your fault," the brunette tried to placate him.

"Every time I try to fight back it just gets worse. People keep getting hurt. People keep getting killed."

"Scott, listen to me," Stiles said, inching closer to the werewolf. "This isn't you. Alright? This is someone inside your head telling you to do this."

"Why are you doing this?" Malia asked, gesturing to the scene.

"Bad dose of Wolfsbane mixed with emotional trauma," Lydia replied, her eyes never leaving the scene.

"It all started that night," the boy said. "The night I got bitten. You remember the way it was before that? You and me, we were—we were nothing. We weren't popular. We weren't good at lacrosse. We weren't important. We were no one. Maybe I should just be no one again. No one at all." Scott's grip on the flare tightened.

"Scott, just listen to me," Stiles said. "You're not no one. Okay? You're someone. You're—Scott, you're my best friend. And I need you. Scott, you're my brother." Slowly, Stiles began inching forward. "Alright? So—so if you're gonna do this, then you're just gonna have to take me with you."

Looking down, the pack noticed that Stiles was now standing in the puddle of gasoline. Slowly, he loosened Scott's grip on the flare, tossing it haphazardly to the side.

"I never really thanked him for that," present Scott said.

"Come on," Malia said. "We should be getting closer."

Silently, the pack moved toward one of the motel rooms, only somewhat deterred when a large fire appeared near the bus.

* * *

"They were trying to warn you," Gerard's voice said. "It's electrified."

"Where are we?" Kira asked.

"I don't know," Scott replied, looking around the unfamiliar basement.

"What are you doing with them?" Stiles asked.

Upon looking further, Scott noticed that his friend had his old haircut. "This must have been during the Kanima incident," he narrated.

"At the moment," Gerard said, slowly walking down the stairs. "Just keeping them comfortable. There's no point in torturing them; they won't give up Derek. The instinct to protect their alpha's too strong."

"Okay," Stiles said. "So what are you doing with me? Because Scott can find me, alright? He knows my scent. It's pungent, alright, it's more like a stench. He could find me even if I was buried at the bottom of a sewer, covered in fecal matter and urine."

"Ew," Malia said.

"You have a knack for creating a vivid picture, Mr. Stilinski. Let me paint one of my own. Scott McCall finds his best friend, bloodied and beaten to a pulp. How does that sound?"

Scott narrowed his eyes and clenched his fists in anger.

"I think I might prefer more of a still life or landscape, you know." Gerard began walking closer, and Stiles backed up a few feet. "What—what are you like 90? Look, I can probably kick your ass up and down this room."

Stiles' assumption was cut short as Gerard punched him in the face, causing him to fall to the floor. Trying to get up, the boy was again hit into the ground. This uneven duel continued for a while longer, until Scott could barely contain his anger.

"Let's go," the alpha said shortly.


	6. Chapter 6

"Why am I wearing black?" Sheriff Stilinski asked loudly. "What are you, an idiot? I just came from a funeral. You know, people wear black at funerals."

"Oh my god, this was at my party," Lydia said in realization.

"No, I was there, this didn't happen," Scott countered, tilting his head in confusion. His eyes widened and he said, "Didn't you put wolfsbane petals in the punch?"

"Why would you put wolfsbane in the punch?" Kira asked.

"I was under the influence of something," Lydia vaguely remarked.

Scott added, "I remember hallucinating at that party. This must be what Stiles saw."

"It's you," the Sheriff said, looking at Stiles across the pool. "It's all you. You know, every day I saw her lying in that hospital, slowly dying, I thought 'how the hell am I supposed to raise this stupid kid all on my own?' This hyperactive little bastard who keeps ruining my life. It's all you. It's you, _Stiles_." He sneers his sons name in disgust. Pointing toward Stiles, still holding a bottle of liquor in his hand, he said, "You killed your mother. You hear me?"

Stiles took a sharp breath, his eyes never leaving the bottle of alcohol.

"You killed her, and now you're killing me."

He adjusted his grip on the bottle, and then threw it across the pool. Stiles ducked behind a pole, bringing his arm to cover his face, when suddenly the bottle disappeared. Looking around, he saw that his father had disappeared as well. He rubbed his hand over his face, trying to get over the shock,

Malia took a shaky breath and said, "We're getting closer. We should leave."

* * *

The pack warily walked through the empty parking lot as their footsteps echoed through the cavernous structure.

"Good luck getting a signal down here," Stiles' voice resonated. Scott turned toward his friends' voice and walked toward it. "Oh, wifi. And you're a mac guy. Does that go for all werewolves, or just a personal preference?"

Peter Hale, ignoring the teenagers rambling, said, "Turn it on. Get connected."

"Peter," Malia hissed, her eyes narrowing in disgust.

"Wait a second, is that my old laptop?" Scott said, walking closer toward the pair.

Stiles took a deep breath and said, "You know, you're really killing the whole werewolf mystique here. Look, you still need Scott's username and password, and I'm sorry, but I don't know them."

"No, you know both of them," Peter quipped, avoiding eye contact with the boy.

"No I don't," Stiles insisted.

"Even if I couldn't hear your heartbeat, I would still be able to tell that you're lying."

"Dude, I swear to god—"

Peter interrupted him by slamming his face against the car hood.

Scott let out a low growl at the action, clenching his fists in frustration.

"I can be very persuasive, Stiles. Don't make me persuade you."

Shaking off the tense ordeal, Stiles began typing. "What happens after you find Derek?"

Ignoring the boys question, Peter ordered, "Don't think, Stiles. Type."

"You're gonna kill people, aren't you?" Stiles said, anxiously hitting the keyboard.

"Only the responsible ones," Peter reassured.

"Look, if I do this," Stiles said, suddenly turning toward Peter. "You've gotta promise to leave Scott out of it."

Scott felt a sudden swell of appreciation at Stiles' loyalty.

Peter sighed and explained, "Do you know why wolves hunt in packs? It's because their favorite prey are too large to bring down at once. I need Derek _and_ Scott. I need _both_ of them."

"He's not gonna help you," Stiles said tersely.

"Oh, he will. Because it'll save Allison." Lydia sucked in a breath at the mention of her friend. "And you will because it will save Scott. Your best friend, whom you know so well you even have his username and password."

Peter squinted at the screen, and said incredulously, "His username is Allison? His password is also Allison."

"Still want him in your pack?" Stiles said sarcastically. Looking back to the screen, he said, "Wait what? That-that's where they're keeping him? His own house?"

"Not at it," Peter said in realization. "Under it. I know exactly where that is. And I'm not the only one." Looking around the parking lot in thought, he turned to Stiles and said, "Give me your keys."

Stiles sighed and fished through his pockets for the keys. "Be careful, she grinds in second."

Peter took the keys in his hand and crushed them. Stiles gently took them from him and looked at the werewolf in fear.

"So you're not gonna kill me?" Peter tilted his head and walked toward Stiles at his remark. "Oh god."

"Don't you understand yet? I'm not the bad guy here."

"You turn into a giant monster with red eyes and fangs. And you're not the bad guy here?"

"I like you Stiles. Since you've helped me, I'm going to give you something in return. Do you want the bite?"

Stiles looked at him in confusion. "What?"

"Do you want the bite," Peter repeated, annunciating the syllables. "If it doesn't kill you, and it could, you'll become like us."

"Like you?"

"Yes, a werewolf. Would you like me to draw you a picture? That first night in the woods, I took Scott because I needed a new pack. It could have easily been you. You'd be every bit as powerful as him. No more standing by his side, watching him become stronger and quicker. More popular. Watching him get the girl. You'd be equals - maybe more." Peter took Stiles wrist and held it close to his teeth.

"Yes or no?"

After a moment of hesitation, Stiles pulled his arm away and responded, "I don't wanna be like you."

"You wanna know what I just heard? Your heart beating slightly faster on the words 'I don't want'."

Scott and Lydia looked at each other in concern.

"You may believe that you're telling me the truth, but you are lying to yourself. Goodbye Stiles."

* * *

Opening their eyes to the new surroundings, the pack found themselves in the boys locker room. Seeing that no one was inside, they all looked around the room, confused.

Suddenly, Scott and Stiles burst through the door.

"Come on, here we go," Stiles said, leading a hyperventilating Scott into the locker room.

Stiles leaned against a nearby wall, attempting to calm his friend.

"Get away from me!" Scott yelled, causing Stiles to jump back.

Sensing his friend's attack, Stiles backed to the other side of the room. Scott jumped onto the lockers, looking around predatorily.

Stiles tried to navigate the room while simultaneously avoiding the werewolf's wrath.

"When was this?" Kira asked, confused by Scott's outburst.

"This was the week after I first got turned," Scott replied, guilt weighing his conscious.

Thinking quick on his feet, Stiles turned and grabbed a fire extinguisher. Shakily, he aimed it at Scott and turned it on. Stiles held the fire extinguisher to his chest and quickly went outside the door, breathing heavily.

"I think we've almost found him," present Scott announced.

"Why do you think that?" Liam asked.

"Just a feeling. Come on."


	7. Chapter 7

"That wasn't my fault, dad!" a boy screamed from the living room in the Stilinski household. Following the voice, the teenagers came upon a young boy, bearing incredible resemblances to their missing friend.

Coming across a young boy sitting in a waiting room chair, Scott slowed. He leaned down and looked at the boy's face, blinking in surprise as he said, "Stiles?"

"Um, Scott? I don't think that's Stiles," Malia said.

"No, it's _definitely_ him. But a younger version. He looks around ten or eleven."

"It is!" Mr. Stilinski yelled, his voice slurred from too much alcohol. "Claudia always had everything under control. She _always_ knew what to do; how to take care of us. But now she's _dead_ , and I have to take care of this _stupid_ kid by myself." Stiles backed toward a corner, his shaky breaths and watery eyes never leaving his fathers.

"I never signed up to raise one hyperactive little bastard on my own. It's all you, Stiles. You killed your mother!"

Shaking from rage and intoxication, he muttered, "I can't even look at you." The sheriff took another swig from an almost empty bottle of whiskey, and stumbled back into the bedroom.

"I didn't know that the Sheriff drank," Malia said quietly, overcoming the shock at seeing a man she'd admired reduced so low.

"He doesn't. Not anymore," Scott said tersely.

Stiles collapsed in the corner, shakily bringing his hands up next to his head. He slowly rocked back and forth, quietly repeating, "It wasn't my fault. It wasn't my fault. It wasn't my fault."

Lydia fought the urge to go and comfort the boy. Instead, she said, "We're running out of time."

* * *

The sudden aroma of medical supplies and the sound of heart monitors quickly alerted Scott to their location. Walking through the familiar halls of the hospital, the five teenagers quietly looked for their friend.

"Is that Stiles?" Kira asked.

"Yeah," Scott replied. "I think he's around eight . . . oh no."

Suddenly, Scott rushed down the hallway. Struggling to keep up with the boy, the pack tried to understand what made him rush off.

Scott came to a stop in front of room 104. "Who's in there?" Kira whispered.

Without responding, Scott slowly opened the door. The rest of the group followed; however, Lydia paused as she read the name of the patient: _Claudia Stilinski._

Upon entering the room, the teenagers noticed a beautiful woman lying on the hospital bed. Sitting next to her was a teenage boy, his head in his hands and his elbows on his knees. The boy let out a sigh and looked up.

"Stiles," Lydia breathed a sigh of relief and she walked closer to him.

"I'd forgotten what she looked like," Stiles said somberly. "I mean, I always had vague memories of her hair and her eyes, but I'd forgotten how beautiful she was."

"She wouldn't want you to stay here, Stiles," Lydia said softly.

"But what if I want to stay?" Stiles asked, looking up at her. "Everything is so simple here. Everything makes sense."

"Stiles," Scott approached his friend. "Life isn't meant to be simple. You can't just spend the rest of your days stuck in the past. You need to move forward."

Stiles shook his head, looking down as he squinted his eyes in frustration.

"If not for yourself, or for the pack, then for your dad. He already lost his wife, do you want him to lose his son as well?" Scott knew it was a low blow, but if it would convince Stiles to wake up he was willing to risk it.

Taking a deep breath, Stiles slowly lifted his head and looked at Scott for the first time. His eyes showed his internal conflict, but slowly he began to rise from the chair.

Giving one last look to his mother, Stiles turned to the pack and said, "So how do I wake up?"

Lydia squinted her eyes in concentration and said, "Maybe you should just leave the room. That's how we navigated your dreamscape to find you."

"Wait, you saw my memories?" Stiles asked.

Scott nodded and said, "That reminds me: you, my dad, and I should really have a conversation sometime soon."

Eyes widening in realization, Stiles gave a halfhearted laugh and said, "Well, I guess we should get going."

Slowly walking toward the door, Stiles hesitantly turned the handle. Taking a deep breath, he crossed the threshold.

And then he woke up.

* * *

 **Thank you guys so much for reading this! Seeing all your comments motivated me so much. I'm so glad so many of you enjoyed reading my story.**


End file.
